Star Wars_ X-Wing 05_ Wraith Squadron - Aaron Allston [161]
“Wraith Five, Six, this is Gray Two. We’re going in for another run. Looks like you two penetrated.”
“Finish the job up for us, would you?”
“Oh, sure. Afterward, can we do your laundry, too?”
Wedge waited until Donos and Tyria finished their pass before firing.
That first proton torpedo barrage from Night Caller’s bow hold, the maneuver they’d nicknamed the Loran Spit-ball, had targeted the heavy durasteel hull protecting the Star Destroyer’s huge array of power cells. Fourteen proton torpedoes had slammed into the unshielded hull, chewing it to pieces but not destroying it completely. Subsequent runs had widened individual holes.
Wedge fired, pouring a linked turbolaser cannon’s destructiveness against the Implacable’s hull.
He couldn’t see what sort of damage he’d done; he was nearly as blind, visually and by sensor, as the Star Destroyer. But his sensors could pick out the larger craft’s silhouette and give him accurate aiming against specific points on the underside.
The dust cloud immediately to starboard of Night Caller lit up, became a brilliant column of whiteness as return fire from the Star Destroyer superheated and atomized Wedge’s protective cloud. He resisted the urge to flinch. “Cease firing,” he said. The larger ship’s gunners were doubtless aiming at the source of the turbolaser barrages. “Lieutenant, we’re going backward, relative ascent. We’ll keep movement constant but unpredictable—and keep up our random firing. No constant fire. Understood?”
He got confirmations from the bridge officers and set Night Caller in motion again. The corvette’s nose tipped backward, threatening a fall, until he brought the repulsorlifts up to compensate; then they were drifting backward.
Much smoother. The officer on the tractor beam was starting to get it.
“Leader, Four. That last shot hit just ahead of the largest hole in the hull. If you can drop back a few meters astern and to starboard, you’ll pop right into the hole.”
“Four, you can’t just hover out there and do my spotting for me.”
“I’m not hovering, sir. I’m dancing. Besides, these guys can’t hit the side of a bantha. Whoa! Close one.”
Wedge sighed. Grinder was trying to get himself killed. On the other hand, accurate damage to the Star Destroyer’s fuel cells meant more than any damage Grinder’s X-wing was likely to inflict now. “Sensors, plot my shots against a holo of the Implacable’s silhouette. We need that to adjust for Grinder’s directions.” He positioned his thumb over the firing button. “Resuming fire.”
· · ·
“We’re getting reports from the manufacturing plant,” Gara said.
“Wait,” Trigit said. “Estimated time of arrival on our TIE fighters?”
“One minute.”
“All right. Go ahead.”
“The Pakkerd TIE fighters never made it off the ground.”
“What?”
“The Rebels apparently had commando forces on the ground. The launch tubes were destroyed. They have two squads of TIE fighters sitting around uselessly in the hangars … and a squadron of Rebel Y-wing bombers blowing the whole facility to pieces. The other two squadrons are pursuing our TIEs back here.”
Trigit hissed in vexation. “This is not good. Zsinj will be furious. Lieutenant, this time tomorrow, Implacable may be running as an independent instead of as part of the warlord’s fleet.”
“That’s actually a fine alternative, compared to some.”
“True.”
“Five, Six. We have incoming fighters.”
Kell glanced at his sensors … and froze.
Red dots were approaching from the direction of Ession. Countless dots.
“Right, Six. Let’s, uh …”
His back locked up in a painful knot. He tried to maneuver, to aim toward the incoming TIE fighters, but his flight stick resisted him, jerking uncontrollably.
“Five, what?”
“Let’s get them …” Kell strained against the flight stick, but it would not cooperate, would not bring his X-wing’s nose around toward the attackers.